Thicker Than Blood
by Esther-Channah
Summary: Comics canon, set shortly after the "Face the Face" arc. Tim gets acquainted with the Wayne forbears.


Disclaimer: Characters belong to DC. I'm borrowing them, but making no profit from the loan.

Wayne Family history taken from _The Daily Planet Guide to Gotham City_, edited by Fred Jandt and Nikola Vrtis, (West End Games, Chicago, 2000).

Thanks to Kathy for the beta!

**Thicker than Blood**

"I hadn't expected to find you in here."

Tim turned at the voice. "Oh, hi, Bruce. I didn't know when you'd be out of that board meeting. Lucius said I might want to have a look around." He paused a beat. "How come you never mentioned that this exhibit was here at Wayne Enterprises before?"

Bruce shrugged. For a moment, an expression that might have been embarrassment crossed his face. "To be honest, I'd forgotten about it," he admitted. He wasn't surprised when Tim's eyebrows flew up. "I don't think I've been in here since the exhibit opened."

"Oh." Tim still looked puzzled. "I just thought it was something I ought to see." He pointed to the legend that hung from the ceiling to proclaim, 'The Waynes of Gotham: 350 years of history.' "I mean considering I'm officially a Wayne now." He stumbled over the words a bit. _Timothy Drake Wayne_ still didn't sound like him. It had felt so right when Bruce had offered to make the adoption official—at least it had the second time he'd offered—but Tim still couldn't bring himself to use the new surname. Bruce hadn't pushed it.

"Ah." Bruce was about to suggest that they head to the parking lot when something made him stop. "Did anything catch your eye?"

Immediately, Tim's eyes lit up. "Yeah, actually. I didn't realize your family'd been here that long." He looked down. "Our family, sorry."

Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tim. I'm not trying to… to supplant—"

"I know," he interrupted quickly. "It's just… weird. Being able to claim two families, I mean. Anyway, I know a lot about the Drakes. I was just trying to get to know my… new relatives, I guess."

"Well," Bruce said, "That's understandable." He considered. "I suppose we can keep Alfred waiting for another few minutes. Come."

Tim followed him to an oil painting of a man wearing a red waistcoat and wool coat. Around his neck was a black cravat. On his head was a black three-cornered hat with gold trim. "Darius Wayne," Bruce said quietly. "He was a hero in the Revolutionary War."

"I know," Tim said. "We learned in history class about how he was Gotham's answer to Paul Revere. I never realized that the manor was built on the land that he was originally granted for his service."

"That's right." Bruce's lips twitched. "Portraits were rare back then. I suppose that there's no way to be positive that this _is_ Darius Wayne, and not some work of art that one of my later forbears purchased to enhance a drawing room, or some such."

Tim wasn't so sure. The artist had managed to capture a familiar intensity in the blue eyes that smoldered on the canvas. The eyes seemed to follow them as they moved on—proof enough for Tim of the authenticity of the subject.

"Darius actually died childless not long after the war ended," Bruce continued. "The second branch of the family came here from Boston in the late 1850s." He waited for Tim to finish reading the small plaque underneath the ambrotype of Joshua Wayne, which described the latter's involvement with the Underground Railroad.

"Solomon Wayne was known as the 'hanging judge'…" Tim drew his attention to the second ambrotype as Bruce continued to expound on the exhibit.

Evidently, Bruce knew his forbears well enough not to look at the names stenciled beneath the portraits. Alan Wayne… Kenneth Wayne… Patrick Alan Morgan Way… Bruce stopped abruptly before the last portrait. Tim swallowed. Like Bruce, he didn't need to read the plaque for this one. An identical portrait hung in Bruce's study at the manor. "Thomas Wayne," Bruce said, his voice just above a whisper.

Tim nodded. The family resemblance was more marked, here. And yet, despite the solemn expression on Thomas Wayne's face, there was a certain openness to the eyes, a hint of humor in the lips that was absent from his son's.

Bruce was silent for a long time. Often, while working at his desk, he'd looked up to see his father's image gazing down at him. Sometimes, he'd seen sagacity in that expression, sometimes judgement. Today, for the first time, it occurred to him that he was older now than his father had been when the portrait was painted. How had that happened?

"You don't have your picture here," Tim observed.

Bruce shook his head. "I never had the time to get it done." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps, I should," he mused. He realized that it was growing late. Alfred would wonder how long that board meeting could last. And they needed to eat before going out on patrol. He touched Tim's shoulder briefly, and the boy looked up surprised.

"Ready to go?"

Tim nodded. They left the exhibit room together. It wasn't until they were down the hall and turning into the foyer that Bruce remarked, "I think I _am_ going to arrange for a portrait some time soon."

Tim looked sharply at Bruce. "When are you going to find the time?"

"I imagine I'll cancel a few board meetings," Bruce said, straightfaced. "Tim…"

Tim paused, waiting for Bruce to continue. "Hmmm?" He prompted.

"When I schedule the appointment, or appoint_ments_, I suppose, did you want me to arrange a sitting for you as well?"

"What?"

Bruce nodded. "I'll try to book it for when Dick can come in. It's just occurred to me that the collection should be kept as current as possible." His smile was cautious. "It's currently missing the two most recent generations. I… believe that ought to be rectified."

Tim didn't quite trust himself to respond. But he took a deliberate step closer to Bruce. He didn't quite feel like a Wayne, not yet. But he was coming closer to it all the time.

"_They say blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood" (Garth Brooks)._


End file.
